Saturday Detention
by bloomissing
Summary: Marceline Abadeer strikes fear into the hearts of the other students on a regular basis, what with her don't-care attitude combined with a penchant for creative insults. Bonnibel Bubblegum, an overachieving lacrosse player, was the one girl that Marcie never fazed. Tensions fly high when they get sentenced to a Saturday detention together.
1. Hallway Struggles

"Shiiiit…." I hissed under my breath, hustling down the hallway at a stilted speedwalking pace. I raised my watch up to face level. Two minutes left. Only two minutes left, and I still had two more hallways and an elevator ride to go. I weighed my options.

I could put on my "grrr" face, hike up my jeans, and step on it, running down the halls and taking the stairs instead of waiting for an elevator. But did I really want to be the kid that runs all the way to class?

I do sort of have a reputation to uphold, and running down the hall like a doof wouldn't do much to further that aim. It's hard to keep people thinking you're a cocky emotionless badass when you lose your chill enough to _run_ somewhere.

But another tardy on my record and I would really be screwed. I'm positive that I would get a Saturday detention for it, and I have shit to do on the weekend.

"Fuck it," I said, securing my backpack tightly on my shoulders. I ran like there was no tomorrow. My Saturday was in tow here. It was worth looking like a total idiot. I'd do anything to get out of sitting in that boring room all day with nothing to do but tear my own hair out and make friendship bracelets with it. I'd had more Saturday detentions than I could count since moving here, and I wasn't going to go down again for something as dumb as being late to class.

But as I rounded a corner on the second hallway, I stopped short. Bonnibel Bubblegum, overachiever extraordinaire and the protagonist to my antagonist, was leaning up against a locker, looking at me over the shoulder of one of her lacrosse buddies. Her face was a mix of confusion and disgust, as was the norm in our interactions. Losing my cool in front of the general population wasn't that big of a deal, but in front of her? It wasn't an option.

I smoothed my shirt, looked down at the floor, and walked at a casual strut down the hall. I would normally love the opportunity to mess with Bonnie, but my poor Saturday was in desperate need of saving. I tried to ignore them, strutting as quickly as possible to my next class. Looking back on it, that probably looked dumber than just running.

Bonnie grabbed my arm, jerking me to a halt. "Why were you running?" Bonnie asked, her brow furrowed. I couldn't tell if she was genuinely concerned for my well-being or just being a nosy ass. I went with the latter.

I turned to Bonnie, mustering up my most impudent, fake-genuine smile. "I just couldn't wait any longer to see you, Bonnibel. Had to put it in high gear and follow the trail of the ground you walked on so I could worship it adequately. Honestly, had I gone one more second without being in your glorious presence I think I would have died." I pressed my hand to the middle of my chest, mimicking a Southern belle in mid-swoon.

I glanced up at the girls to observe their reactions. Bonnie's perpetual calm was hard to crack, but when it did, I reveled in the fact that it was me who cracked it. It proved that no one's that perfectly placid all the time, and no one can keep their image together forever. No one but me.

But Bonnie, who usually rebutted me without missing a beat, looked seriously upset this time. I could tell that something was off. I hadn't hit an emotional raw spot or anything. I was just getting warmed up. But her chin was wobbling in a weird way, and dimpled in the middle. Bonnie's chin never wobbled like that before.

I should have felt triumphant that I fucked her up that easily, but it felt wrong to me. I didn't quite know what to make of it. She opened her mouth to speak, but her friend cut her off.

"That doesn't even make any sense," said Bonnie's friend. "I mean, I know you're super desperate and all, but Bonnie's not even that great." Bonnie shot her friend a look that said "thanks a lot". I faced the girl, pulling myself up to my full height, which was a good few inches above both Bonnie and her friend.

"Did anyone ask you, C average? Report cards come out this week. Better make sure that Daddy doesn't find out or else you'll be hauling ass this summer to go work on your cousin's farm in Idaho."

"Yeah, well, you don't even know that my cousin has a farm! And it's not even in Idaho!" Her hard little face knotted up, and she turned promptly on her heel and stomped away. I smiled, crossing my arms and enjoying the victory, ignoring the incompetence of my opponent.

"You were saying?" I said to Bonnie. She huffed, turning to close her locker door. She walked down the hall without a word. She was blowing me off. That was something I couldn't let go, class or no class. It would mean that she had won.

I hurried to catch up with Bonnie. "I have class," she said, picking up her pace and pulling her backpack straps up over her shoulders. She turned her head away from me to look at the floor, her short strides struggling to outpace my long ones.

"No you don't, or else you would be there by now. You're never, ever late." I turned around, walking backwards so I could face her. "I bet you haven't gotten a detention in your entire life, have you? Not even once. That's a shame. It's a real experience, let me tell you."

Bonnie was still looking at the floor, her long pink hair falling across her face. Her steps were hurried, and she pulled her arms in close to her chest. Was something seriously wrong? I wasn't quite sure how to handle an emotional Bonnie. I decided to keep pushing her, just to see what would happen. Probably not the best idea, but I thought she could handle it.

"See, in detention, you don't get to leave all day. Seven hours of no communication with the outside world does crazy things to a girl. Gives her weird mental problems. Hallucinations. Homicidal thoughts. Illusions of grandiosity. Oh wait, you already have that last one, don't you? My bad. Actually, maybe you'd do pretty well in detention. You might want to consider stopping by this Saturday."

Bonnie stopped abruptly. When she looked up at me, I could see tears welling up in her eyes. _Shit,_ I thought, my mouth hanging open. Whatever I did, it had seriously fucked her up. I cracked Bonnie, all right. But it was an empty victory.

"Dammit, Marceline! Will you shut up for once in your life! I get that you tease me or whatever and it's a fun game, but I have a lot of stuff going on and I absolutely do not need for you to make it worse right now. So please just leave me in peace." Her voice broke halfway through the last sentence, and a tear squeezed out of her eye. She balled up a fist and wiped it away.

She walked around the corner, stranding me alone in the middle of the unforgiving white hallway. I checked my watch again. Class started five minutes ago.

Damn. Another detention for me.


	2. Walk of Shame

I shuffled down the P.E. hallway, past the locker rooms and the coach's offices, passively watching my reflection in the trophy cases in the walls. Flickers of pink reflected off of the dingy glass. I took in the grey concrete walls and listened to the sound of my shoes hitting the floor with a strange kind of detachment. All of the rooms around me were empty, and I felt like a trespasser on sacred ground. The white tile floors were an arctic expanse, isolating me from every other living being. I couldn't be here. I shouldn't be here. Hot prickles of shame crept up the back of my neck. It was surreal, to think that it would ever be me doing the walk of shame to the room at the end of the hall.

As many afternoons as I'd spent on this hallway at lacrosse practice, I'd never been in this room before. I turned the doorknob, pulling open the heavy door gently, to avoid slamming it against the wall. I walked in, preparing myself for the worst. The detention room was small, with twenty or so old fake-wooden desks lined up in neat rows. They all faced a large teacher's desk, with one of its front corners broken off and a small, whirring fan on the other. The grey carpet seemed like it absorbed all sound in the room. The ceiling was low, and the room has a certain sleepy, static feel to it, like nothing had ever happened there and nothing ever would.

It's not that bad, I told myself. I can handle this. I walked in and took a seat at the very front desk, in the middle of the row. I clasped my hands and set them on the desk, looking forward. I waited for a few moments in silence. The clock's hands seemed like they didn't quite seem to care whether they moved one way or another, or if they moved at all. Why was no one there? Was I at the wrong place? I walked back outside and checked the number plate outside of the door. Room 114: Detention.


	3. A Feast Fit for Kings

Marceline threw the door of the Detention room open, startling Bonnie into sitting up straight. She swept a quick glance across the room, her slack body language giving out a vibe that said "I'm bored already". When her eyes lit on Bonnie, she smiled.

"Glad to see you accepted my invitation. We'll throw a party: a little narcissistic megalomaniac get-together." Marceline slid into the seat net to Bonnie and propped her feet up on Bonnie's desk, stretching her arms back behind her head.

"Just the way I wanted to spend my Saturday," Bonnie huffed. "With your tacky shoes in my face and your grating voice in my eardrums." Bonnie shoved Marceline's feet off her desk, jolting her into sitting up. "One problem rectified. Please take care of the second one."

"Now Bonnie, you know better than to expect that to happen. If you hate talking to me so much then you really shouldn't have gotten yourself into detention." Bonnie glanced away, and Marceline leaned forward, propping her elbows on her desk. "Just what did you do to get in here, anyway?"

"I don't believe that's any of your business. What'd you do?" 

Marceline placed her hands on her hips and pointed up her nose, mocking Bonnie. "I don't believe that's any of YOUR business."

"Fair enough. Anyway, shouldn't there be someone in here watching us? It seems highly unlikely that they would just leave us here alone."

"If that were true, I wouldn't have come in in the first place." Marceline inspected her fingernails, holding the out at arm's length for the sake of looking casual. "Eventually a lady will come in and take roll, then come check in at random times. You could risk leaving, but there's a good chance she'll come in when you're not there and notice you're missing. It's really not worth the suspension for skipping."

"Hmmph. Well, what are we supposed to do all day?" Marceline snorted with laughter, and Bonnie furrowed her eyebrows. "What's so funny?"

"You don't DO anything. You just rot here for your mandated sentence and then leave. What, did you think they'd have planned some sort of activity for us? This isn't a preschool, Bonnie. Although our school basically has the curriculum of one."

"Well, if I would have known that, I'd have brought some homework…" Bonnie despaired. She had no idea what to do with free time, much less how to be completely idle. It sort of scared her. She didn't know how to be anything but busy.

"Of course you would have." Marceline paused, thinking. How nice was she going to be to Bonnie today? After the crying episode in the hall yesterday, she figured she owed her at least a little bit of slack. She made a mental rule: go easy on Bonnie, at least for the day. She groaned at herself, but knew it was the right thing to do.

Marceline tried to look sympathetic. It didn't quite work. Besides, it was so out of character that it would make Bonnie suspicious. She decided to go for a neutral face and play it safe. "You didn't bring anything with you at all?" Bonnie shook her head. There was no bag on the ground beside her.

"Fuck, you didn't even pack a lunch. The cafeteria isn't open on Saturday, you know. You have to bring snacks and stuff for yourself, or else you'll starve to death."

Bonnie groaned and banged her head on the desk. "And I didn't even eat breakfast!"

"Don't worry, babe. I've got you covered." Marceline winked at Bonnie, then lifted a large denim backpack from its spot on the back of her seat.

"Don't call me babe…" Bonnie said, keeping an eye on Marceline's bag. She was suspicious of the contents, and suspicious of Marceline's uncharacteristic eagerness to help her.

Marceline plopped the bag on her lap and unzipped it, yanking items out of the main pocket and placing them on the two tables. "We've got peanut butter cups, cheese whiz, grape and cherry soda, hot Cheetos, a few chocolate cupcakes… ooh, a whole tub of icing!"

Bonnie stared at the food with mixed disbelief and horror. "I can't eat any of that stuff! It's barely even food. It has the nutritional value of a plastic bag."

"Are you kidding? This is the nectar of the gods! You haven't lived until you've had one of these chocolate squiggly cupcakes with peanut butter cups on top. Literal perfection." Marceline started unwrapping a cupcake.

Bonnie huffed and turned away. "Well, I'm not eating it."

"Suit yourself," Marceline said. She pressed a peanut butter cup into the top of the cupcake, licking her lips. Bonnie's stomach growled.

After Marceline was halfway into the cupcake, Bonnie sighed. "Hand me a cupcake. And one of those peanut butter things."

Marceline smiled. "A convert! Knew I would win you over." She handed over the goods and Bonnie unwrapped the shiny cupcake.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in."


	4. Bros For Real

Before a half hour had passed, Bonnie and Marcy had set up camp in the floor of the classroom and worked their way through most of Marcy's junk food. The squiggle cupcakes and peanut butter cups were gone before you could blink, Marcy squirted the cheese whiz down her throat in one go, and the two girls were chomping through the icing and Cheetos.

"Haha, this icing's turning my mouth blue." Marcy stuck out her tongue at Bonnie and laughed when Bonnie made a face. "How on earth did I convince you to eat this junk with me?"

"You didn't say anything. My stomach did." Bonnie swiped a Cheeto through the blue icing, leaving a track of orange dust on the side of the tub. "Besides, we never have any of this at my house, anyways. My dad doesn't like me eating junk or candy."

"Shit man, I wouldn't want my kid eating this crap either. It'll give you like, Triple Diabetes or something." Marcy swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "What do you even eat every day, Princess? Couscous salad on whole wheat bread? Does daddy's maid fix it for you special?"

Bonnie shot Marcy a piercing glance. "Of course you'd think what I eat is dumb. I have to stay in shape for lacrosse don't I?" Bonnie pushed away the tub of icing and faced away from Marcy. "You know, why do you always have to be such an ass to me? You've always been awful to me and I've never been anything but nice to you! Didn't I try to be your friend? You just weren't having any of it, always with that cool girl act you love so much. You know what? You can take your stupid junk food and shove it. I don't need your help."

Marcy turned towards Bonnie, confused by her sudden change in mood. "Come on Bonnie, don't be like that…" Bonnie scooted farther away on the carpet. She was sitting in such a way that Marcy couldn't see her face, couldn't read her emotions. "You know I just mess with you. I do it with everyone." Bonnie's shoulders started to shake ever so slightly, and Marcy scooted up closer behind her.

"Bonnie. Hey. Look at me." Marcy reached out her hand to touch Bonnie's shoulder and Bonnie whipped around violently. Tears were streaming down her face. Marceline pulled her hand back, astonished. "Bonnie… what's wrong?"

Bonnie sniffled. "Why do you even care?" She buried her face in her hands. "You don't care about anyone!"

Marcy slumped down in her spot on the floor. She was in a real bind now: how was she supposed to deal with a Bonnie who was this blatantly upset? Even with all that sharp wit she had under her belt, she could only come up with one solution: tell the truth. "Yeah, well, that's what I want everyone to think… But I do care, you know." Marcy scrunched up her face and crossed her arms. Eww, the truth was unpleasant.

Bonnie sniffled, wiped her face with her sleeve, and looked up at Marcy. "Seriously?" She looked taken aback. "You sure have a funny way of showing it."

"Yeah, huh. I guess I do. I've never been really good at… feelingsy stuff." Marcy was getting seriously embarrassed now. "I just thought that, since you're you and I'm me, we wouldn't exactly… work out as friends, you know?"

"What, like I'm not cool enough for you or something? I know I'm not exactly tough street girl material, but I thought we could at least be nice to each other. Like, not enemies and all that."

"Of course not! I thought that I wasn't good enough for… wait, Bonnie, you thought we were enemies? Oh my god, that is SO dramatic! Even for you!" Marcy cackled, slapping her thigh.

"Ughh, Marcy, you're doing it again!"

"Sorry, sorry." Marcy wiped her eyes. "But seriously. I never made fun of you or anything because I hated you. That was my way of like… bonding or something. I thought you were tough enough to take it and I respected you for it." Marcy punched Bonnie lightly on the arm. "I never thought we would be best pals or anything, but I never hated you. Not by a long shot."

"Really? Huh. Wow, Marcy. Guess I really messed that one up." Bonnie sniffed again and Marcy grabbed a box of tissues off the teacher's desk, passing it to Bonnie. "You really thought you weren't good enough for me?"

Marcy sighed and stared down at her worn sneakers, picking at a loose strand of fabric near the toe. "Well, I mean, yeah. I mean, you're captain of the lacrosse team, your dad is mega rich, and you're basically homecoming queen like 365 days a year. And I'm… just Marcy. The mean old delinquent. Shitty parents. Eats convenience store food on the regular. Basically the entire universe was telling me I wasn't good enough for you."

Bonnie was looking markedly less red and puffy now that she had stopped crying, and this comforted Marcy, even though the conversation was definitely still feeling-oriented and it made her a bit uncomfortable. "Oh, Marcy… all of that stuff doesn't mean anything. The only thing that matters for two people to be friends is whether they like being with each other and spending time together. Even if that means eating junk food together on the dumb carpet."

"Haha, I guess you're kinda right. But I still don't think your dad would like us hanging around together. He's always been kind of picky about your friends, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, well, who cares what my dad thinks." Bonnie pressed a sleeve-covered fist to her lips and hugged the bag of Cheetos, handing Marcy a handful. They resumed dipping the Cheetos into the blue icing, both girls chewing in silence and mulling over what had just happened.

"Hey Bonnie? Can we be real for a sec?" Bonnie looked over at her and nodded her head, curious. Marcy stared down at her blue fingers. "Do you think we could ever be bros for real?"

Bonnie furrowed her brow. Bros for real? Marcy really was something else, that was for sure. "I think that depends. What does it mean to be 'bros for real'?"

"You know, just bros. They have each other's back and do fun shit together. None of that sappy stuff like best friends forever. But good bros." Marcy stuffed another handful of Cheetos in her mouth, hiding her embarrassment.

Bonnie smiled wide and licked a glob of icing off her finger. "Yes, Marcy. I think we can be bros for real."


	5. Passing Notes

"Oh fuck, fuck Bonnie, get up in a seat." Marcy grabbed handfuls of snack wrappers and shoved them back into her backpack. Bonnie reached over to help, but Marcy swatted her hand away. "Just get back in your seat, shit! I can hear the monitor coming."

Bonnie rose to her feet and grabbed the nearest seat to Marcy, contorting her body to lean down and grab the last few bags off the floor while Marcy zipped up her backpack and ran back to her seat. She pulled out a beaten-up notebook from under her chair and pretended to be studying it closely, while Bonnie simply sat quietly, hands clasped and facing front. The monitor turned the door handle and pushed the heavy wooden door open with her back, struggling with the effort of pulling her rolling cart and other miscellaneous bags through the doorway. While the monitor's back was turned, Marcy ripped out a page from her notebook and passed it to Bonnie, along with one of her extra pens.

The monitor was a tiny middle-aged woman, all dyed-blonde brittle hair and baggy pink cardigan. A substitute teacher, Marcy guessed, paid extra by the school system to come in on the weekend. The woman took her time sitting down in the metal desk at the front of the room, and pulled a clipboard out of her purse and held it at arm's length in front of her, squinting to read it. "Bonnibel Bubblegum?"

Bonnie looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide. She sat up straight and said "Present!" respectfully. Marcy rolled her eyes.

"Aaannnd….. Marceline Abadeer. Nice to see you again, dear." Marcy held up her hand at the lady and smiled. Nice to see you again too, Ms. Monitor.

Marceline sat back in her seat and closed her eyes, waiting for the woman to get bored, when she heard a quiet tap on her desk. A tiny folded-up piece of paper with her name on it in bold letters. Bonnie was still facing the front of the room, hands on the desk. Marcy squinted at her a little and opened the note.

Bonnie's handwriting was big and loopy cursive, not quite the kind of small, pretty handwriting Marcy expected when it came to high school girls. It made the corners of Marcy's mouth turn up, and she wrote back in her own slanty, all-lowercase style.

**Bonnie:** What are we supposed to do now? How long is she going to stay here?

**Marcy:** look at u writing notes during detention

**Marcy:** i got noooo idea how long shes going to be here

**Marcy:** usually its only a little while so she can take roll but sometimes its a lot longer

When Bonnie saw the slip of paper slide over onto her desk again, it was impossible not to compare her own writing style to Marcy's. In contrast to her own boring standard-grammar sentences, Marcy was much more casual and playful when it came to words. She replaced the punctuation at the end of sentences with a line break, and had completely forgone any kind of apostrophes. All in the name of being "chill", Bonnie guessed? It was easy to see how Marcy had transferred her own passively casual way of speaking into text, and it made Bonnie wonder just what her own writing style said about her.

**Bonnie:** Wow, that really sucks. She doesn't look like she's eager to leave. What's the longest she's ever stayed in here before?

**Marcy:** like four hours probably

**Marcy:** idk man shes weird, always zoning out

**Marcy:** she might be here for a while

**Bonnie:** Shit. What are we supposed to do, just sit here?

**Marcy:** write notes i guess

**Marcy:** so do u want to tell me what u did to get detention

**Marcy:** eyebrow waggle

**Bonnie:** Still no. Do you want to tell me why you're so insufferably nosy?

**Marcy:** oh come ooooonnnnnnn bonnie

**Marcy:** ill tell you what i did if you tell me

**Marcy:** and im sure whatever you did cant possibly be that bad

**Bonnie:** You really have no idea. Besides, I don't care what you did to get detention.

**Marcy:** wait, did you hold up a kid for their lunch money

**Marcy: **threaten to flash the gym teacher

**Marcy:** ooh, i know, you

**Bonnie: **Fine, shut up, I'll tell you! Just hold on, it might take a long time to write. I'll tell you as soon as this lady leaves.

**Bonnie: **What could you have even done that was so bad?

**Marcy:** ahahah omg bonnie

**Marcy:** i got too many fuckin tardies

**Bonnie:** Seriously, Marcy? I can't believe you! You made me think you you beat someone up or something!

Marcy shot Bonnie a harsh side glance, but she was too intently focused on pretending to be working to notice. Marcy huffed and turned back to the crumpled piece of paper.

**Marcy:** do u really think i would actually do that

**Marcy:** the worst shit ive done is like… pierce my own ears without parent fucking permission

**Marcy: **and you cant even get in trouble for that

**Marcy:** i dont beat people up bonnie what the fuck

When Bonnie read the note she looked over at Marcy, trying to read her face and see if she had actually upset her. Marcy was expressionless, black hair curtaining her face

**Bonnie:** Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you… were a bad person or anything. I was just exaggerating, to make a point I guess. I don't really think you would really beat anyone up.

**Marcy:** whatever you say

**Marcy:** lets just drop it

**Bonnie:** Are you sure you're not mad? I really didn't mean to make it sound like that.

**Marcy:** oh my god yes im sure

**Marcy:** please lets talk about something else

**Bonnie:** ...Okay, if you're sure. So your pierced your own ears? That sounds like it would really hurt.

**Marcy:** haha yeah

**Marcy:** you bet your ass it did

**Marcy: **i got my lobes done professionally when i was a kid

**Marcy:** but when i was around 13 i wanted to pierce the cartilage at the top of each ear

**Marcy:** so i just sort of did it

**Marcy:** with a safety pin and everything, i sterilized it with a candle

**Bonnie:** Oh my god, Marcy. That's so dangerous! You're supposed to use antiseptic so you don't get infected!

**Marcy: **yeah yeah, go back in time and tell my 13 year old self that, mom

**Marcy:** i make sure my shit is sterilized now of course

**Bonnie:** You mean you still pierce your ears? Or do you do other people's?

Marcy chuckled to herself. Bonnie was so sheltered and she didn't even know it. It made some parts of Marcy mad in a way she didn't understand, but at times it was so endearing she forgot to be angry.

**Marcy:** omg what a cute fucking question

**Marcy:** no bonnie i absolutely do not still pierce my ears

**Bonnie:** Do you pierce… other things?

**Marcy:** why dont you come to the bathroom with me and find out

**Marcy:** wink wink

**Bonnie:** Oh god, Marcy! Don't be gross. Forget I asked, you huge wad.

**Marcy:** hahah dont get your panties in a twist, i was kidding

**Marcy:** i dont have any other piercings

**Marcy:** tats are a different story though

**Bonnie:** Hah, you must think I'm a huge idiot. I know you're not old enough to have tattoos. You're just messing with me, don't think I don't see right through it.

**Marcy:** not even a little bit

**Marcy:** look over here if u dont believe me

Bonnie glanced to the side, and Marcy smirked and rolled up the right sleeve of her shirt to the top of her shoulder. Thick black swirls peeked out from the fabric, intertwining and curling up into themselves, then sweeping down almost to Marcy's elbow and snaking back up to her shoulder and under her shirt. How had Bonnie not noticed this before?

**Bonnie:** Oh man, I guess I stand corrected. Marcy, that's seriously beautiful. I really mean it. How have I not seen it before?

Marcy's face felt hot as soon as she read Bonnie's note. She leaned forward and hunched over the note, pen in hand, thankful for the mess of hair covering her face. She wasn't used to compliments, she almost never got them. Especially from someone… like Bonnie. Someone who was so used to receiving compliments all the time, from anyone and everyone.

**Marcy:** i got it done when i was seventeen

**Marcy:** one of my friends used to work at the place downtown and he had all the equipment

**Marcy:** i drew up the design and taught me to use the needle gun as like a birthday gift

**Marcy:** and yeah i tatted myself up

**Marcy:** he made me promise to keep it hidden until i was of age or whatever

**Marcy:** which is not a problem bc i like never wear short sleeves

**Marcy:** um

**Marcy: **you really think it looks good

The paper was running out of space to write, so Marcy switched it out for another piece. When she folded up the piece of paper and moved to toss it surreptitiously onto Bonnie's desk, she saw that Bonnie's left arm was slightly out to the side, palm curved up. Bonnie was still staring intently at her desk like she was working, in case the monitor happened to look up and see her. But the message was sent: Bonnie wanted Marcy to pass the notes by hand. _It's just less obvious, we don't want to get in trouble_, Marcy could almost hear Bonnie say. Hah, what a nerd. Marcy reached back, pretending to stretch, and pressed her hand to Bonnie's with the note inside. Bonnie's hand was… warm. She could feel the heat coming off of her before their hands even touched. Also really soft. Yikes, Marcy thought as she yanked that train of thought right off its rails and snatched her hand back, watching Bonnie unfold the note, write a reply and pass it back.

**Bonnie:** Yes I really think it looks good. It goes well with your hair, and your skin tone.

Hah! What skin tone, Marcy thought. Marcy's skin was about as pale as it gets, like a fucking vampire or something. She could never manage to get a tan no matter how long she stayed out in the sun, only burn. Bonnie's skin was always golden brown in the summer, and only a little bit lighter in the winter.

**Bonnie:** I've sort of always wanted a tattoo, you know?

**Marcy:** seriously

**Marcy:** u mean one of those pinterest ones

**Marcy:** like an infinity symbol or a quote from the notebook

**Marcy:** if youre a bird im a bird?

**Bonnie:** No, you ass! A real one, something that means something. I was thinking about getting one on my shoulder blade. So I can hide it if I want, but people can still see it if I want them to.

**Marcy:** shit man, i think that would look really good

Marcy: what would you want it to be of

**Bonnie:** I don't know, I've really never thought about it. Maybe some flowers? I'd have to sit down and think hard about it before I could decide. It doesn't really matter though, I could never get a tattoo.

**Marcy:** why not

**Bonnie:** I don't know. It's just the kind of thing I would never do, I guess. Besides, wouldn't it hurt really bad?

**Marcy:** oh come on now bonnie

**Marcy:** duuuuuh it hurts

**Marcy:** but only for a little while

**Marcy:** and if its something youve really always wanted to do then stop trying to think your way out of it

**Marcy:** bodies are just bodies

**Marcy:** its really not that big of a deal

**Bonnie: **Haha yeah, you're probably right. But it's something I really don't want to think about for a good while. I want to make sure it's something I'm going to be happy with until I die, you know? That's still a big decision.

**Marcy:** fair enough

**Marcy:** if u ever want help w a design though im on that shit like this monitor lady is on xanax

**Marcy:** and by that i mean i will swallow handfuls of artistic creativity until im a walking ink zombie

Bonnie glanced up at the monitor, who was staring off into the distance, not even looking down at the romance novel she was holding open with one hand. Her eyes were glazed and her head lolled to one side. Yep, she was definitely on something.

**Bonnie:** That doesn't make any sense, you goober.

**Marcy:** hahah yeah not even a little


End file.
